


A Spider's Web (Peter Parker x Female Reader)

by An1ka



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Demons Are Assholes, F/M, M/M, More tags to be added, Peter Parker/Reader - Freeform, Peter is a Little Shit, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Reader Insert, Reader is trying her best, ghosts n' shit, language bois
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-05-18 21:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An1ka/pseuds/An1ka
Summary: Never in his wildest dreams did Parker imagine he'd be sent on a paranormal goose chase with the girl that hit him with a car at 6AM. Funny how life works itself out, huh?





	1. Chapter I: Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter has a heart attack and Tony Stark needs his sleep.

_Six missed calls from Mr. Stark._

_Six._

Peter, as responsible as he tried to be, was not perfect. In spite of his good grades, shining personality, and impressive community service record, the kid had his fair share of slip-ups from time to time. This, however, was unprecedented. 

And he was halfway to a heart attack the moment he realized his mistake. 

Eyes glued on his phone screen, Peter practically exploded from his desk, projecting himself out of his office chair and onto the floor with a sharp  _thud_. Uttering a string of unintelligible gibberish, he staggered to his feet, blindly reaching for the mess of clothes perched at the foot of his dresser. Parker knewbetter than to ghost Iron Man - missing one or two calls from the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist was bad enough... but  _six?_  It was surprising the man hadn't turned up looking for his corpse by now. 

In Peter's defense, he had been fast asleep during Tony's onslaught of phone calls. After a typical night of cramming for a chemistry test last minute, the spiderling had passed out mid-page turn without realizing it. Regardless, he doubted his excuse would do him much good. This was  _Tony freakin' Stark_  after all. Four hour stress nap or not, he was in hot water. 

Fumbling to put on a pair of pants, the disheveled hero nearly tripped over himself several times as he beelined for the stairwell, mobile phone already in hand. Neglecting to check the time, he punched in his mentor's number with enough force to crack the screen before flying towards the front door - hardly waiting for a response. 

_"Please don't be pissed, please don't be pissed, please don't be-"_

His anxiety-riddled mantra was cut short by a dull  _click,_ a familiar sigh escaping the receiver. 

"Geez kid, a little early in the morning for homework help, don't you think?" Somehow Tony sounded more fatigued than he normally did, which was almost impressive if not for the fact that Peter was absolutely  _mortified_. Scanning the tiny set of numbers in the corner of the screen, he nearly let some.. not so G-rated words slip from his mouth.

_4:15 AM. Not even six in the morning and he was already hassling Mr. Stark._

He must have gone quiet, as the billionaire was quick to replace his grumpy tone with something a little more compassionate, if not concerned. "You OK, buckaroo? I'll send a car if y-"

Snapping out of his daze, Peter quickly interjected, clearing his throat. "Uh.. no! I'm all good, Mr. Stark. Just.. um.. sorry for missing your call- er, _calls_ I mean. Guess my ringer was off.." he offered an awkward chuckle, leaning defeatedly against the doorway. He could practically see the look of mild disbelief on the man's face, complete with the eyeroll and everything.  _Good lord he sounded like an idiot_.

"Oh, that's what this is about?" Peter could have sworn he heard the man laugh under his breath. "Kid, that was ages ago. We can talk about it some other time - preferably when the sun's up."

Blinking in surprise, Parker let his shoulders sag a bit. Perhaps there hadn't been an emergency like he thought. Either that, or Tony had found someone else to give him a hand. Inhaling a shaky breath, he glanced up at the ceiling. "Oh, uh.. okay! So everything's alright then?" he ventured.

"More or less. There's been talk about your side of the neighbor. Apparently people have been reporting some... _interesting things_. Thought you'd have a ball with it," he mused, shuffling the phone a bit. "Sounded like a load of crap until I learned  _Fury's got himself involved._ "

Peter felt his brow twitch. "Nick Fury? Why would he be interested?" 

"Dunno, didn't ask," Tony shrugged. "Guy's trying to be discreet about it, but its hard not to notice when SHIELD's poking their nose where it doesn't belong."

"So.. what you're saying is you want me to interfere with SHIELD's investigation?" Peter asked, dumbfounded.

"Eh, I thought you'd might wanna take a crack at it... Anyways, I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Sleeping, probably." 

"Something like that," Parker replied, peering towards the staircase with a sigh. He was almost tempted to press his mentor for more details, however, it was still dark outside. Tony rarely got enough sleep as it was. "See you later, Mr. Stark."

"Come by Stark Tower tomorrow, whenever you can. Actually, no - scratch that. Tonight at 7 should be fine," he yawned, somewhat passively.

Peter, who was almost definitely was going to be swamped with homework that night, replied with an unsteady "I'll try," before immediately being met with a _"Perfect, catch ya later champ,"_  and the sound of the big red button doing its job. 

"Andddd, he's gone," he sighed, allowing his arm to fall to his side. Peering down at his messy attire, Peter bit his lip, silently cursing himself for not checking the time earlier. At this rate, his nerves were far too riled up to even  _dream_  of sleep, and he still had three hours to kill before school. He  _could_  go back to studying, however...

Climbing the staircase, he found himself drifting towards the closet door, poking around for the familiar red and blue fabric cached neatly behind the hoard of umbrellas decorating the space. Within minutes, the hero was crawling out the skylight of the apartment, slipping into the darkness of the early morning with three hours to kill.

Studying could wait, he had a job to do.

         ~~And a car to get hit with.~~

 


	2. Chapter II: (Y/N)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) has a daily routine straight out of a horror movie, and she hates it.

As with most mornings, the day had begun with three very distinct sounds. 

First, the chorus of shouts from the kitchen, a boisterous mix of excitement and laughter signalling the arrival of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass as (Y/n) stirred awake, groggily peering towards her alarm clock with a sigh.

Her roommate, as pleasantly reliable as he could be, happened to carry  _early bird syndrome_  to a nauseating degree. This was true, not only for him, but for his friends as well, apparently. Erin's… co-workers, insistent on accompanying him to work every morning, had never been late a day in their lives - which meant 4:30 AM was the scheduled wake-up time until someone decided to die or retire.

Unfortunately, once (Y/n) was up, there was no falling back to sleep. After what happened in Oregon.... well, it was a waste of time trying to win  _that_  battle. Just as she had begun pulling herself out of bed, she was graced with the second sound of the day; the shrill roar of an engine as her friends sped off down the street, the headlights of the semi-functioning car briefly streaming across her window before slipping into the darkness once more. Blowing (h/c) hair out of her eyes, (Y/n) listened for the noise to fade as she shuffled towards the stairwell, flipping on every light switch between her room and the first floor without missing a beat. This little habit of hers by no means helped lower the cost of the electricity bill, however, it succeeded in angering a certain entity a fair amount. So long as Erin didn't figure it out, she deemed it worthy of a couple extra bucks.  

The bottom step let out a creak of protest as (Y/n)’s hand slipped from the railing, instinctively falling towards the knife clipped to her pajama pants, tired eyes scanning the hallway for anything lacking common sense. Or a tongue. 

The two usually came as a package deal. 

  
Admittedly, the third and final sound came far later than she expected; it wasn’t until she was making breakfast that she heard anything. Rummaging around the cabinets for a clean bowl to use, a sharp cackle from the next room made her stumble, nearly dropping a plate on her face as a string of profanity escaped her lips, (e/c) orbs swiveling towards the source with a glazed anger. 

“RAMONE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

And there it was. The final, most aggravating sound of them all. Heart pounding in her ears, (Y/n)’s fright quickly flared into irritation as she marched towards the living room, weapon drawn in a threatening manner. 

‘I’m gonna skin that little bastard once and for all,’ she promised herself, stepping out of the kitchen to face off against the heathen. Ramone was actually much closer than she’d anticipated; upon turning the corner, she was surprised to see him standing a mere five feet away, one pale arm leaning lifelessly against the arm of the couch as the rest of him twisted into an awkward crescent. 

Ramone was… kind of a hassle. (Y/n) had the impression he probably meant well, but something about him always made it difficult to handle his presence in the home. Maybe it was the smell, or the fact that he magically vanished whenever the others were home. Maybe, it was the creepy grin, or the lack of a tongue, or the fact he was 6’4 with the body of a birch sapling. Either way, she found him to be a bit ‘much’ at times, especially 5AM on a Monday. Breathing sharply through her nose, she gave the man a pointed glare, gesturing towards the closet door with her knife. 

“No, no. I’m not dealing with this today. Go back into your corner, I’m not letting you bully me into giving you any more scraps from the fridge,” she grumbled, watching as his grin faltered slightly, releasing a low whistle from the cracks of his teeth. This was Ramone’s way of throwing a tantrum, as (Y/n) had come to learn over the past few months. He used to be a lot more… temperamental, that is, until  _it_  stepped in to put him in his place.  ~~She spent hours scrubbing the blood off the walls that day.~~

The two of them stood there for quite a while, staring in silence as (Y/n)’s grip tightened around the knife. Ramone’s whistling had grown into a shrill whine, the skin beneath his right eye twitching rapidly, as if something were trapped beneath, struggling to escape. The lights overhead began to flicker - once, twice, then three times before she slammed her foot down and the room returned to normal, a startled look in Ramone’s eyes.  
**“I said no!”**

The fierceness in her tone was unintended, though surprisingly effective. The angry stick man had apparently failed to account for her shitty mood being a deterrent against his cheap scare tactics, and seeing this play out as it did, he quickly resorted to his usual form of escape. Without another sound, he began scuttling across the carpet on all fours towards the closet before violently slamming the door behind him, barricading himself inside the tiny space. The muffled click of the lock that ensued came as a mild shock to the girl, as the closet door didn’t actually have a lock, but she ultimately dismissed it for the sake of her own sanity. Besides, it wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen in this place. Not even close.

With Ramone gone for the time being, (Y/n) allowed her shoulders to fall back, a sharp sigh piecing the air as she headed back towards the kitchen. Something told her it was going to be one  _hell of a day._

What it forgot to mention, however, was the part about hitting Stark's wonder child with a Mini Cooper.


	3. Chapter III: The Day is Young and I Feel Like Garbage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's possible (Y/N)'s car has been cursed so many times that it's immune to Spider-Sense.   
> Either that or Parker forgot to drink his coffee.

(Y/N) still remembered the days when spending the morning alone was a  _relaxing experience._ No commotion downstairs, no foot traffic in the narrow hallways. Just peace and quiet all bundled up in a schedule made specifically for her. 

Of course, she never really was  _alone_  anymore.

Ironically enough, the closest thing she achieved to personal space only came when she was in the presence of other people. The  _things_  that lived in her apartment shied away from Erin and his friends for whatever reason. At first, (Y/N) simply assumed she was going crazy (after all, if you're the only person who can see something, is it really there at all?) until Ramone, bless his heart, threw himself through the window one evening; this left a jagged, tree-shaped hole that, while rather expensive to fix, proved she wasn't hallucinating its existence. This newfound revelation was a mixed bag of sorts; though she was relieved she wasn't a complete psycho, this meant there were  _actual_  demons running afoot in her home. (And yes, that was demons with an  _s. Plural._ ) 

Come to think of it, the little mongrels weren't limited to the flat either. Like normal vermin, (raccoons, possums, the usual..) they avoided populated areas and usually came out after dark, however, most people hardly acknowledged them. One evening, (Y/N) had watched a man in his forties as he casually strolled past an eyeless,  _blood red_  rabbit as it ripped into a dead bird, right there on the sidewalk. At first she thought the rabbit was simply  _invisible_  to the rest of the world, but even still, wouldn't that still leave the man with a floating, deceased bird getting torn to bits a couple feet above the curb? Her current theory was pretty simple. People had a tendency to block out whatever they couldn't understand from their fragile little minds. The amount of horrifying shit she'd seen around the neighborhood was enough to give anyone nightmares, and yet the people living here functioned as usual. They just... never stopped to take another look.

_Frankly, she couldn't blame them._

Raising a coffee mug to her lips, (Y/N) did her best to ignore the muffled whispers coming from the walls as she peered out the window of her flat, (e/c) eyes squinting to glimpse the flash of red and blue dancing across the horizon. 

"What the hell was that...?" she mumbled into her coffee, shifting away from the window to take a seat on the couch. Lips curling in disdain, she noted several of the cushions were absent from their respected spots, though she didn't dwell on the theft for long. Instead, her hands found their way to her pockets as she rummaged around for her phone, the harsh light of the screen illuminating the poorly lit room.

_5:08 AM_

_Three New Voicemails from Unknown Caller_

(Y/N) barely glanced at the notification before swiftly pushing it aside. Creepy mystery callers weren't on her list of priorities this week; it was far too early to deal with that kind of thing, anyways. Instead, she skimmed her inbox for anything lacking a deadline or a favor. Well, there was a message from her cousin inviting her to a wedding, which was nice - especially when compared with the three page letter left by Erin's ex girlfriend detailing some...   _fascinating_  conspiracy theories involving her supposed 'relationship' with her flatmate.  _Lovely._

She was halfway to the delete button when a spider the size of a grape skittered across the palm of her hand, earning a loud shriek as the phone slipped from her grasp, landing squarely on her eye. 

**_"SON OF A BI-"_ **

*****************************************

The cool, crisp morning air ruffled the edges of Peter's mask as he cruised down the street, flying from rooftop to rooftop in an instinctive rhythm as a pair of white specks observed the world below. The city was already waking up from the looks of it, cars beginning to trickle onto the roads while the sky was still fairly dark. 

Surprisingly enough, he'd yet to spot anything that peaked his interest. The only commotion so far had come from a dog barking at a raccoon as it raided the garbage; a conflict of which Peter opted to stay out of. At one point, he thought he heard a girl screaming from one of the apartments, however, by the time he was close enough to intervene, the screaming had devolved into a string of very angry-sounding profanity, and Peter opted to eject himself from that situation too.

Regardless, he continued to patrol the neighborhood as planned. The fresh air always helped clear his head, especially when he was stressed out or bothered by something. Doing his job helped distract him from past mistakes, which was useful considering he accidentally called Mr. Stark at four in the morning after ignoring all those phone calls. 

The mere thought of the incident made him wrinkle his nose in embarrassment, a low sigh escaping his mask as he swung across the roof of an apartment complex.  _"Geez, he probably thinks I'm a total pain.."_ he huffed, slowing his speed a bit. 

_'That's not exactly true.. He did invite you to the Tower, after all.'_

Shaking away the growing frown, Peter blinked in surprise.  _He'd nearly forgotten about that._

Peter was both relieved and concerned that Tony had invited him over out of the blue that morning. On the plus side, it meant that he had a chance to redeem himself by showing up. On the down side, however, he wasn't even sure if he  _had the time to go._  College had practically drowned him in tests that week, and he was hardly even prepared for today's exam. Tonight's study session could likely stretch till sunrise depending on the subject.... and yet here he was, signed up for a seemingly  _mandatory_  hangout with Iron Man. 

Lost in his thoughts, Peter had unconsciously begun to drift back towards the flat now that the sun was peeking over the horizon, the shrill beeping of his watch barely registering amid the constant stream of thoughts. 

_Hopefully, today would go as smoothly as possible.._

*******************************************

_"Today is going to be absolute hell, I know it.."_ (Y/N) muttered under her breath, one hand clutching her bruised eye as the other carried/dragged a worn-looking backpack towards her car, tossing it into the passenger's seat the moment the door swung open. 

Slamming the door behind her, she'd hardly bothered to buckle her seatbelt before slamming the keys into ignition, cursing under her breath as the car came to life in a symphony of groaning engines and squeaky tires. Pulling the car away from the curb, she glimpsed a pair of misty shadows in the rear-view mirror, cozying up in the backseats like they owned the place before merging together to form one, horrifyingly large mass of pitch black with several.. disturbingly red eyes. Vermin. Her car was  _infested with vermin._

"If anything goes missing from this car, I'm calling an exorcist," warned (Y/N) as she abruptly turned a corner, absently reaching for her seat belt in the process. The  _thing_  hitchhiking in the backseat must not have understood her warning, as it almost instantly took to prying the headrest of the passenger seat from its respected position, shoveling the object towards itself at a frightening speed. 

"What? No! Get that away from your mouth!" (Y/N) reacted near instantly, tearing her gaze from the road in an attempt to shoo it away before it cost her sixty bucks to buy a replacement. Before she could reclaim her property, however, the creature seemed to turn its attention towards the road, a low hiss emanating from its form in a,  _"Lady, WTF are you doing, concentrate on the road!"_ kind of way, before melting through the seat of the car, leaving her to fend for herself. 

Returning her attention to where it was legally obligated to be, (Y/N), though she hardly had time to react, was quick to realize why her non-corporeal stowaway was so eager to jump ship. 

Because the car was flying towards something at a frightening speed. 

Something red, blue, and-

**_"HOLY SHIT"_ **

******************************************

Peter Parker had been through a lot throughout the course of his life.

Getting hit by a Mini Cooper, however, was definitely a first.


	4. Chapter IV: Can Arachnids Press Charges?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which (Y/N) is an anxious mess and Peter is a precious dork.

_What were the legal ratifications for hitting a superhero with your car?_

(Y/N) wasn't quite sure if Google had the answers to that one. 

The web-patterned suit was easily recognizable the moment she laid eyes on it. Upon scrambling out of the vehicle, the weight in her chest expanded tenfold, (e/c) widening at the sight of the spandex mess crumpled at the side of the road. 

"No way..." a breathless sigh of disbelief trickled from her lips as she inched closer, knees trembling in shock. Hitting anyone with your car was a traumatizing experience, sure. But  _this?_  This was on another level entirely. (Y/N) recalled the countless conversations in which Erin rambled on about the masked hero, raving about his good deeds and badass exploits. Had she just crippled her friend's personal hero? The thought made her feel physically sick, a lump forming in her throat as she inched towards the man, eventually crouching down to check his pulse.

  _"Ugh..."_

A sudden groan from the injured heap earned a hoarse yelp from the girl. Instinctively stumbling back, she nearly tripped over the sidewalk in an attempt to make space between them; heart pounding loudly in her ears as Spider-Man lifted his head off the ground, peering groggily in her direction. 

 _"That sucked... to be honest,"_ he wheezed, almost immediately falling into a coughing fit thereafter. Perhaps it was simply the shock getting the better of her, but the hero sounded much younger than she'd imagined. Early twenties, maybe? Either way, he didn't sound  _dead_ , which was always a good sign. It was hard to imagine she'd have any luck explaining to the  _Avengers_  that one of their protégés(?) (friends?)  had been done in by good ol' fashioned vehicular manslaughter because the driver had been too busy fending off a headrest-eating  _spirit gremlin_  to pay attention to the road. 

Repressing the urge to cry right then and there, (Y/N) stumbled to get her words out as quickly as she could.  _"ImsosorryIhadnoideayouwerecomingareyoualrightshouldIcallanambulance?"_  she spluttered, her eyes the size of dinner plates as a pair of white specks observed her, unblinking. There was a moment of silence between them as the man attempted to sit upright, a stifled gasp of pain slipping through his teeth upon disturbing his injuries. It dawned on her, as she sat there petrified, that the poor guy probably failed to understand a word she said. 

Fortunately, he was functioning enough to put two and two together. Clutching his sides in a wounded stance, Spider-Man regarded her with a weary glance. "I'll shake it off, trust me.." he groaned, the smallest sliver of...amusement(?) in his tone. 

Blinking slowly, (Y/N) tensed a bit. "I... don't think this is something you just  _shake off_ , is it? I mean... you got hit with a-"

"I know," droned the man, a pained sigh escaping his lips. "Just... there's no need for an ambulance. I handle this kind of thing all the time." Something about his tone sounded uncertain, but (Y/N) refrained from questioning further. Apparently, there was something about hitting someone with your car that made it rather easy for guilt to dictate your behavior; she favored falling silent in fear of straining him with further inquiries. Was he angry with her? Probably. This guy fought villains on a day to day basis, and to be taken out of commission by some college weirdo in a faulty car was the  _dictionary definition_  of a pain in the ass. Biting her lip, (Y/N) let her gaze fall towards the curb, exhaling shakily as she pulled her arms in to hug her sides.  _God, she felt like shit._

The web-slinger must have noticed her gloomy expression from where he was sitting; after another few beats of silence, a gloved hand suddenly presented itself, just a couple inches from her face. "So, we probably got off on the wrong foot.." he chuckled awkwardly, tilting his head by means of a friendly gesture. (E/c) orbs shifted towards his outstretched hand with a look of surprise, however, (Y/N) couldn't help the hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.  

Hesitantly reaching to return the gesture, she gave a slight nod. "Minor understatement, but yeah. I guess you could say that," she hummed, raising an eyebrow.

He let out a delicate, crow-like laugh. "I've witnessed a lot worse. Name's P- er, Spider...Man by the way," he slipped up a bit towards the end of his words, like he'd just remembered to use his  _hero_ name when introducing himself. He was quick to recover, however, and carried on speaking as if the embarrassment from the flub  _wasn't_ written all over his body language. "My Spider-Sense usually lets me know when a car's coming, but I guess it decided to take a sick day this morning.. Anyways, what's your name - er, if you don't mind me asking, that is."

(Y/N) felt her shoulders begin to fall, a wave of relief slowly washing over her as she began to snicker, shaking her head in disbelief. For a superhero, he was incredibly awkward at this kind of thing. It was charming, in a sense.  _Nice to know he wasn't an ass. "_ It's (Y/N), (Y/N) (L/N) in case you wanted to report me to the police for being a shite driver," she half-joked, mentally praying he wouldn't actually go ahead and press charges.

Fortunately, Spider-Man wasn't one to go to court. Or the police, for that matter. "I think I'll pass on that one, thanks for the offer, though." 

"Shame, the press would have had a heyday with the whole thing," (Y/N) mused, flaring her arms dramatically. "Imagine the headlines: ' _CELEBRITY SPIDER: SQUASHED BY MINI COOPER MONDAY MORNING!"_ She could hardly contain her grin as the spandex hero burst into a fit of laughing/coughing, one hand clutching his side as the other brushed away a non-existent tear from his mask. It was a beautiful, calming, yet mildly concerning moment they shared together; for the first time that morning, (Y/N) wasn't on the verge of a heart attack. It was... nice, in spite of the circumstances. Maybe her life wasn't over, after all. 

The two sat there for quite some time, the sun gradually looming over the hood of the car as they exchanged conversation, occasionally dropping some horrendous pun worthy of  _actual jail time_  before being ostracized by the other for a brief period of time. It wasn't until (Y/N) checked her phone an eternity later that she realized her little greet-n'-meet with Spider-Man was going to cut into class time unless she got moving. 

"Crap, I gotta run!" she hissed, stumbling to her feet as she shoved her phone in her pocket, shooting the hero an apologetic glance. "Sure you don't need a hospital...? Maybe a ride home or something?"

Struggling to his feet, he shook his head dismissively. "I'll be fine. You get to where you need to be; I'll do the same."

Eyebrows knit in confusion, she turned towards the vehicle to contemplate her options. At this rate, she was going to be late if she wasted any more time.... but still. She kinda owed the guy. "I could probably drive you-" Swiveling to face Spider-Man, she faltered in her speech - a look of disbelief dawning her features upon surveying the empty space. As quickly as he had appeared, the guy had seemingly vanished into thin air, leaving her alone with a dented car and a thousand questions. 

 _'Guess he really wasn't kidding about the whole 'shaking it off' thing...'_ (Y/N) noted blankly, shuffling towards the Mini Cooper with a puzzled frown. Closing the door behind her, she slipped on her seat belt a bit quicker this time, adjusting her rear-view mirror with a sigh. Spirits be damned, she refused to hit another hero with her car this time around. 

Not if she could help it, at least.

Red and blue spandex dancing across her thoughts, she sped off down the road feeling a tad less shitty than before. Guess he really was a hero, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything you want to see in upcoming chapters? Feel free to comment down below!


	5. Chapter V: Hey Dad, Guess What I Did Today?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark is kind of a mother hen at times, but hey, at least he's got some tea on Fury.  
> Nothing like sending your kid on a ghost hunt to keep him out of danger, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 hits already, jesus guys - I didn't think anyone was gonna click on this ajfkl;sjdfa  
> But seriously, THANK YOU for coming this far. I really appreciate you reading my work!

_"Mr. Stark, I'm here..."_

Stepping into the room, Peter hardly acknowledged the sound of approaching footsteps as a familiar figure rounded the corner, his brain far too preoccupied with the events of the day to process what was happening.  _God, he felt like garbage._

 It wasn't until a voice sounded from a short distance away that Parker was forcibly dragged back to reality, eyes snapping towards the source with an unreadable expression.

"Jesus, kid. You okay? You look like you got hit by a bus," Tony remarked, a flash of concern in his eyes as he swiftly made his way over, absently adjusting his glasses.

"Mini Cooper, actually," he corrected, awkwardly ducking his head as the Stark closed in on him. Hopefully, his mentor wouldn't flip out on him, similar to the last time he was injured; though judging by his expression, it was unlikely his hopes would hold up much longer.

The billionaire sighed, his gaze already fixed on the particularly nasty bruise lining Peter's cheek. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, what am I looking at here?"

**"Minor Lacerations and Contusions to the face, arms, and legs, as well as a sprain to the left shoulder and three bruised ribs."**

"It could be worse," Peter offered, causing Tony to scoff, a look of disbelief lining his features as he gestured towards the couch, eyebrows knit in mild frustration. 

" _Sit._  Now. I'll be back with the med-kit." 

Peter sat there, fiddling his thumbs as the man vanished into another room, a hushed string of curses trailing behind him. Heaving a sigh, he allowed his thoughts to drift, memories of the girl from earlier, now clinging stubbornly to his brain. Decidedly, it was a good thing Mr. Stark had been absent in the immediate wake of the incident. Peter could practically see the look in his eyes upon confronting the poor driver, threats of pending lawsuits rolling off his tongue like pointed daggers. Wrinkling his nose, Parker shook his head at the thought.  _'Nah, it's probably best if her identity remain anonymous. I'll just...make something up! Maybe they drove away before I could get a good look at their face,'_  he noted, ignoring the biting pain in his shoulder as he leaned back into the sofa, frowning.  _'On second thought, he'll probably pull up footage of the whole thing out of freaking nowhere, like he always does..._ '

The sound of footsteps tore his attention from the ongoing dilemma, doe brown eyes flickering towards a grumpy-looking Iron Man wielding a first aid kit and a cup of coffee. Tossing the red-white box onto the couch, Tony regarded the younger with an expectant huff, taking a seat beside him. "So,  _Spider-ling,_ when exactly were you going to tell me you were hurt?" his tone wasn't nearly as pleasant as Peter would've liked, though he couldn't really  _blame_  the man for getting mad. Before he could offer up another excuse, a look of realization dawned on Tony's expression, tightening his frown into an uncomfortable grimace. "Hold on a minute, this didn't happen before you called me this morning, did it? Christ kid, I-"

Parker was quicker to interject, this time. "No, no! Mr. Stark, it was just an accident. I was on my way back from patrol this morning and I..." he trailed off, his gaze darting across the tile. "I wasn't looking where I was going and ran into someone.. well, someone's  _car_ , actually. I didn't think it was a big deal, so I came to school, and-"

"You went to _class???_ " The coffee mug nearly shattered as it landed on the table.

_"_ I told you, it wasn't a big deal!" 

Running his hands down his face, Tony looked like he was going to be ill. "Kid, buddy. You don't just.. scamper on into class after getting hit by a car!"

Biting his lip, Peter found himself reaching to shield his injured shoulder, almost instinctively. "I've made it to school with injuries worse than that, trust me." Okay, so maybe that wasn't the  _wisest_  choice of words. Expression darkening, Tony reached for the med-kit, practically dropping it on Peter's lap before sitting back, resting his knuckle against his lips in one tense, stressed motion. What followed was a period of silence between the two, the rustling of bandages being unraveled from their container now filling the empty air as both mentor and protégé avoided any direct eye contact. It wasn't until Parker was nearly finished patching himself up that Tony leaned forward to grab his coffee, eyeing the college student with a tired glance.  _Looks like he was ready to try this again._

_"_ So," he began coldly, attempting a less  _agitated_  tone. "About that phone call this morning. Think you can stay out of harm's way if I send you on a mission?"

Glancing up from his work, Peter snorted softly. "You mean spying on Fury? Depends." 

The celebrity gave a hesitant laugh, the hint of a smile gracing his lips before stubbornness reclaimed his features. "Geez Parker, when you put it like that, it sounds kind of childish..." he droned sarcastically, raising a brow. "But no, I've already done most of the spying. Your job will be finding what he's after before SHIELD finds an excuse to make a ruckus. You saw how they handled things in New York. If someone doesn't find a reason to disappoint them, your _friendly neighborhood Spider-Man_  might not have a neighborhood to look after for a while, got it?"

At this, he wasn't quite sure how to react. Why was Tony Stark of all people concerned with what happened to the little guys? Sure, he did his best to look out for Peter, but investing the time and money to pick this thing apart... even he couldn't help but feel surprised. Shooting his mentor a curious glance, Pete cleared his throat. "O-oh, um.. got it. So... you have a file for me or something? I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, exactly."

Tony shrugged. "Honestly, kid? I'm not sure either. F.R.I.D.A.Y, pull up the file from last Thursday, will you?"

**"On it, boss."**

Within moments, the living room was illuminated by a massive screen, information regarding SHIELD's most recent activities flashing across Peter's vision, followed by several hand-drawn sketches. The subjects of these drawings looked as though they'd been ripped straight out of a Stephen King novel, blood-red eyes and disturbingly large teeth accompanying many of them. Halfway crossing his arms in an awkward motion, the young hero couldn't help the amused snort that tumbled forth, earning an odd look from the older man. "Wait a minute, is Fury  _actually_  taking this seriously? These things look like urban legends; they're  _hoaxes_ a bunch of kids put online for fun. Mr. Stark, you can't actually be telling me SHIELD is hunting the Boogeyman."

"Well, more like they're hunting the thing that summoned it here. From what I could gather, Fury thinks something powerful enough to create this kind of effect on such a densely populated area could potentially raise the alarm sooner rather than later," Tony explained, trying to maintain a straight face while Peter continued to ostracize the edgy looking scribbles dotting the display. "They're not trying to catch, well, whatever those things are. They're trying to catch the source. Whether that's a portal, person, cult, whatever, is up to you to decide. Sound like fun?"

Allowing his eyes to stray from the screen, Parker noted the tired smile on Tony's face with a mixture of relief and curiosity. Uncrossing his arms, he scooted forward a bit. "Mr. Stark, what's the point of going through all this trouble? I mean seriously, you  _never_  pay attention to this kind of thing; and besides, there are at least a thousand other ways to ruin SHIELD's day."

Blinking in surprise, the man met him with a smug grin. "Twenty-four thousand, actually. But I guess if you want the truth..." he trailed off, swiftly flicking his wrist through the air. As if by magic, the flickering display before them shattered into a million little pixels, fading into the floor moments later. "You looked bored, kid. I thought you might want something to keep yourself busy for a little while. Y'know, in case college was too easy." 

Pushing himself to his feet, Tony extended his hand towards the younger, ruffling Peter's hair with a small grin before shuffling off towards the kitchen, eager to get himself a drink. "You want anything, underoos? We're not exactly short on snacks around here if you couldn't tell."

Shaking his head, Peter couldn't help the wide smile that pulled at the corners of his lips, a warm feeling filling his chest. Tony Stark could be a bit... much at times, especially when he was worried about something, but he was one hell of a mentor. 

"I'm alright, thanks Mr. Stark," he called, brown eyes drifting towards the ceiling.

_'Y'know, today wasn't half as bad as I thought...'_


	6. Chapter VI: Okay, So It's One of Those Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) meets a lot of strange people, she just doesn't expect all of them to come back to life. Shame on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, this chapter takes place around the same time Chapter Five does. I wrote about half of this at 2am so I have no idea how it turned out ajskdfjl;asd. Thanks for reading my stuff!

(Y/N) was not particularly fond of birds, particularly owls. They were beautiful, majestic creatures, sure, but they were also fast, deadly, and creepy as all hell. In the sixth grade, her class had watched a documentary on great-horned owls, and the experience didn't sit well with her. Perhaps it was because she owned a rabbit at the time, but watching a hare get plucked from the skies and ripped to bits by a feathered, soulless-looking gremlin simply didn't appeal to her eleven-year old self. Fast-forward a few years later, and (Y/N) had an entirely new reason to dislike the beasts. 

_Him._

Pushing her way into her flat, weary (e/c) orbs swept across the adjacent wall for the light switch, her backpack tumbling lifelessly to the floor at her feet, the front door closing behind her with a  _click._ Flicking on a couple lights, she hardly registered the blur of movement taunting her peripheral vision as she dragged herself up the steps towards the living room. It wasn't until she was halfway there that a peculiar smell stopped her in her tracks, the beginnings of a scowl pulling at her lips as a wave of realization washed over her. 

Rummaging her pockets for the familiar hilt of her knife, (Y/N) made a beeline for the living room, anxiety and irritation drowning out her exhaustion as silent prayers for the protection of her furniture spilled forth from her lips like  _poetry_.

_"Please don't make a mess, please don't make a mess, pleasedon'tmakeamess.."_

Stumbling into the living room, the overwhelming smell of charcoal and tree sap was almost enough to make her head spin. Clutching the knife in one hand, she did her best to refrain from cursing aloud, as to avoid frightening her  _guests_. 

_Owls. Dozens of them._

_"_ Erin's going to kill me," she murmured under her breath, looking out over the sea of feathers. At least forty or so owls of every species dotted the room, taking up every armchair, couch, and book shelf in sight. Nearly every window in the room had been pried open, a trail of soot and feathers scattered across the carpet in a nightmarish display that drove (Y/N)'s anxiety through the roof. _Cleaning this up was going to be a bitch and a half._ Moving as carefully as she could, the girl did her best to navigate the makeshift aviary in an attempt to reach the balcony without too much grief. As was to be expected, the sliding glass door was hanging wide open; the exterior curtains floating aimlessly in the evening air as the silhouette of a man perched just beyond the alcove. 

Stepping out into the open, (Y/N) allowed the knife to slip back into her pocket, announcing her presence with most exasperated sigh she could muster.  _"Hogwarts called. They want their gimmick back."_

The crisp autumn air seemed to grow several degrees cooler as the man turned to meet her gaze, two, unnaturally dark eyes narrowing in a mixture of amusement and blatant confusion.  **"I hate to say this, but I really don't understand a word that comes out of your mouth,"** he stated as a matter-of-factly, his head tilting at an unnatural angle. (Y/N) felt her lips twist into a smirk; she wasn't quite sure if this came out of amusement or murderous intent, though she theorized it likely being a variation of the two. 

"Why am I not surprised," she hummed, (s/c) fingers drumming restlessly against the side of her leg as she contemplated stabbing the weirdo, right then and there. The  _Owl Man_ , as she so-creatively referred to him, was a paradox shrouded  ~~by big dumb stupid smelly birds~~  in mystery. From an outwards perspective, he looked to be fairly young; early twenties, even. He had cold, darkened eyes and ash brown hair that he kept fairly neat, contrast to the worn-looking overcoat that seemed to accompany his every appearance. One could easily mistake him for human, if not for the unsettling aura, as well as the army of feathered  _beasts_  that surrounded him constantly.

Some people considered him a mystic of sorts. 

        (Y/N) considered him a pain in the ass.

Leaning back against the railing, the Owl Man studied her face for a while before raising a brow.  **"You look frustrated. Why's that?"**  His tone lacked any trace of mockery of sarcastic, only blunt curiosity. It was almost as if she were speaking to a child. Or a wall, for that matter.

"Well for starters, my living room is being swarmed by  _birds_ ," (Y/N) remarked calmly, crossing her arms.

**"And that's a concern...?"**

She nearly smacked the man upside the head.  _Nearly. "_ Yeah, genius. It's a big concern. I have flatmates, remember? If they come home to a heap of feathers and dead mice, I'm a  _goner_."

The Owl Man contemplated this for a moment or so, his eerie gaze slipping past her own, resting idly on the mass of hooting and feather-ruffling in the living room. With a slow blink, he opened his mouth to speak.  **"Ah. I see."**

_Idiot._

Pinching the bridge of her nose, (Y/N) groaned in frustration. "Look, just... tell me why you're here. There has to be  _some_ reason you decided to break into my house, right?" The question seemed to draw his focus, hollowed orbs shifting towards her with an unexpected intensity. It was as if her words had broken some kind of spell over him; she was worried she had offended him somehow, that is, until he stepped away from the railing to approach her.  

"There's something you should see." His tone was dull, however, his gaze held a certain urgency she'd rarely seen before. Inhaling sharply, her efforts to create some space between the two of them were interrupted as an outstretched hand was swiftly thrown several inches from her face in an awkward, somewhat intimidating gesture for her to take it. 

"Um, alright..." (Y/N) blinked, scrutinizing the man in front of her. Clearly, the entity wasn't aware of basic social norms, but considering the circumstances, she was willing to let it slide for  _now._  Heaving a tired sigh, she allowed her hand to slip from her pockets, gravitating towards his own. "We're going to have a talk about personal space though, got i-"

Whatever (Y/N) was going to say next was swiftly silenced by an unholy shriek as the two were suddenly thrust into a whirlwind of feathers and inky blackness, her body consumed by a sensation akin to that of  _plummeting off a building_ before the hold on her hand was released and her feet were suddenly planted safely on the ground. 

**"We're here.**

_God, she was going to be sick._

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) attempted to piece together where ' _here'_  was supposed to be, all while trying to keep from emptying the contents of her stomach onto the grass. Dragging her hands down her face, she was fairly quite to notice the harsh, florescent glow adorning the side of a nearby building, trademark red accent embellishing its walls. This, paired with the string of shopping carts piled in the lot, pointed (Y/N) to a solid, yet oddly perplexing conclusion.

_"Barnaby, why did we teleport behind Target?"_

The name slipped out without her intent, (e/c) watching blankly as he swiveled around, a deep scowl written across his features. The Owl Man  _hated_  that name, something (Y/N) had learned a few months back, mostly by mistake. The term itself had no real significance; she was almost positive the Owl Man lacked any _actual_ name at all. But out of all the human names she had thrown at him, (mostly out of laziness - Owl Man was kind of an exercise to say fifty-times in a row), Barnaby had been the only name he'd visibly responded to. It reminded her of a dog she used to own when she was twelve, actually. Her mom got mad because she'd begun to refer to the poor thing as 'Shiznit', or 'Mr. Shiz'; this anger developed into something of a rage when the dog actively began  _responding to the name_ , resulting in her getting grounded for a week or so. Only this time, instead of her mom getting angry, the dog (or in this case, the owl) had its own bone to pick with her. Eyeing her unhappily, the disgruntled weirdo eventually dismissed the slip-up, gesturing vaguely towards the empty lot.  **"Six people.."** he muttered, as if his vague observations had somehow spelled out the answer. After a round of uncomfortable silence, however, it became painfully apparent that this was  _not_  the case, and he (eventually) continued.  **"Six people have already been killed by their hoards. Axyses, Crimsons, Puppet Spiders. They're growing bolder, lashing out at humans. Something from our world is seeping into yours,"** he clarified, furrowing his brow. (Y/N) paused, regarding the news with both horror and confusion.

"Wait, hold on. Killing people?" she blinked, sharply turning to face him. "The people around here hardly have the brainpower to  _notice_  these things, not to mention  _fight them off._  Are you telling me these creatures just  _suddenly_  feel like attacking people out of the blue? Those victims, they must have been... I dunno... involved somehow, right? Maybe they saw them with their own eyes and try to kill them? It makes sense if you think of it that wa-"

**"(Y/N), listen,"** he interrupted rather briskly, a stern look in his eye. **"Something's aggravating them, drawing them in from some kind of source. Someone from your world knows about these creatures and how to utilize their abilities; if they succeed in gaining any form of control, both your world and mine could be at risk, understand?**

Nodding slowly, (Y/N) did her best to ignore the growing pit in her stomach. "And what does this have to do with loitering behind a Target parking lot?"

Scoffing quietly, the Owl Man extended a hand, guiding her gaze in the direction of what appeared to be a red....mass..(?) Squinting through the darkness, she realized with a start that the mass was  _moving,_ several pairs of ears pointed skywards as the pile of small bodies tugged and ripped at something below. Inching closer, (Y/N) watched with fascinated horror as one of the shape bolted away from the pile clutching what appeared to be a gloved... hand..(wait **what?** )

Memories of a crimson,  _carnivorous_  rabbit she'd spotted tearing into a bird weeks prior were now resurfacing in horrifying detail as the pit in her stomach doubled in size, (e/c) orbs now reduced to pinpricks as they followed the  _twitching, human hand_  being carried off by a blood-soaked rodent. Suddenly, the documentary from sixth grade comforted her  _immensely._  It also provided her with an idea. Glancing towards the Owl Man with a pale smile, (Y/N) clasped her hands together, attempting the most pleading look she could muster. "So, you know how you kind of owe me for breaking into my apartment and completely trashing the place?"

Barnaby was not impressed.  **"A bit of an exaggeration, but carry on."**

"Do you think you could get your.... er, 'friends', to chase those things away? Please?" She hummed, trying her damndest to ignore the incredulous look etched across his face at her request. (Y/N) was rarely one to rely on favors; her stubborn behavior and lack of trust in most situations made it nearly impossible to ask for help, especially when it came to matters involving the 'otherworldly'. In this case, however, there was no way in hell she planned out fishing some poor bastard's corpse out of a sea of  _flesh-eating rabbits_  without backup, regardless of what that did for her pride. 

The Owl Man must have recognized the urgency in her expression, as he responded without much delay. Eyes flickering a dull yellow, he snapped his fingers, a string of unintelligible gibberish flowing freely from his lips. As if on cue, a rush of talons and feathers streaked over their heads, dozens of owls plummeting towards the Easter demons at terrifying speeds. It was the documentary all over again, only this time the prey were significantly more deserving of their fate, in (Y/N)'s opinion. 

**"Huh, they're hungrier than I thought.."**  Barnaby casually remarked, his gaze never once faltering from the gruesome scene as the Target sign cast its florescent, unwavering glow over the sea of carcasses. By the time the owls had moved on, there was nothing left but a trail of bones, and the body of a man. Without waiting for a word of approval from the Bird King ™, (Y/N) hurried over to examine the corpse, or what was left of it. Their face was a mess, jagged scars lining every inch of their skin as the remains of a mask hung loosely from the right side of their jaw, stretching down towards the nape of their neck. The red and black fabric was present across the rest of the body as well; minus the gaping hole in their chest where the little beasts had gone to town. 

"Poor guy... what a crappy way to go out..." she sighed, the stench of death making her shudder. Nevertheless, she stayed put for quite some time, her mind reeling over the events of today. First, she had hit Spider-Man with her car, then she'd learned the world might be ending, and now there was a man lying behind the Target with a hole in his chest.  _All in all, a solid day in her book._

It wasn't until a hand found its way onto her shoulder, however, that (Y/N) snapped back into reality, tired eyes expectantly scanning the darkness for the familiar overcoat, decorated with soot and claw marks. Instead, she was greeted by a scarred smile, a remaining half of a mask peeling off into her lap. 

_**"Well, hello~!"** _

 

 


	7. Chapter VII: Dreamworks and Dead Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is never a conversation (Y/N) thought she'd be having with a Parking Lot Corpse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone! I wanted to post a quick chapter before tomorrow because surpRise! I'm getting my wisdom teeth YEETED and I'll need a day or two to recover. Never fear though, I tend to bounce back fairly quickly. Till then! 

_**"Well, hello~!"** _

        " _What in the f r E s H   h e l l _ ?"

The shriek that tore from her lips rivaled that of a slasher victim, (e/c) widening in surprise as (Y/N) jerked backwards, crashing to the ground in an awkward heap of panicked swearing.  _Well that was unexpected._

Before she even had the chance to regain her bearings, the man was already up on his feet, both hands clasped tightly over his ears as he glowered at her, an offended scowl pursing his lips. "Jesus woman, what is  _wrong with you?"_  he gaped in a hushed tone, squinting at her as if she had just pepper-sprayed a child right in front of him. Still recovering from near heart-attack, (Y/N) shot him an equally offended glare, practically bristling. 

"Me? What's wrong with  _you?"_ she pointed accusingly, heart pounding her ears as she struggled to rise to her feet, stumbling slightly. "You don't just tap someone on the shoulder after being  _dead for the last twenty minutes_! You-...." she paused suddenly, eyes drifting towards the shrinking hole in his chest. It had dawned on her, mid-confrontation, that she was yelling at a  _corpse_ behind the Target. Not a ghoul, or a Crimson, or a reaper; a  _human corpse,_ now angrily staring her down as regenerated flesh and blood formed over his injuries at an alarming rate. Okay so maybe he wasn't _completely human._ Swallowing the lump in her throat, (Y/N) flinched as the man peered down at her expectantly, awaiting her response. 

"Go on, 'you'  _what?"_  he hummed, crossing his arms with an impatient turn of the head. Something about this guy reminded her of a disgruntled soccer mom, sass rolling off of him in waves as he belittled her with a series of disapproving scoffs and sneers. It was almost amusing, actually.  _Almost._

Regaining her balance, (Y/N) found the courage to take a step  _forward_ , eyeing the stranger anxiously. She had dealt with much worse countless times before, right? This guy was nothing, compared to the others. Hell, he couldn't even handle a couple of rabbits without getting torn to pieces. _(That last one was kind of a understatement, but she refused to cut him any slack)._  Straightening her posture, (Y/N) shifted her arms to copy his stance, feet planted squarely in front of him. " _You,_ dumbass, should be thanking me for saving you from those little demons!" she huffed, a little sharper than she'd anticipated. In truth, she hadn't actually  _done_  any of the saving - she'd simply asked a friend to hire some good ol' fashioned pest control, however, she needed a win right now. And from the looks of it, she almost had one.

Blinking in surprise, the man seemed to shut up for a moment, tired eyes searching hers for any means of a response before sharply narrowing in disbelief, a low snicker escaping his lips. "Last time I checked,  _kiddo_ , you didn't save me from anything. I still got torn to shreds, remember?"

(Y/N) merely scoffed. "And you'd still be that way if I wasn't around to help you."

Very briefly, she caught his frown wavering. "Oh? And how _exactly_ did you manage that?"

_'Crap, he got me there,'_  she thought as (e/c) orbs flitted over her shoulder, expectantly scanning the shadows for the familiar smile, haunting her from afar with a radiating smugness. Surprisingly, she was met with no such luck, his usual place off in the corner left empty. For (Y/N), this meant two things. The first, that the Owl Man was a tricky little bastard with a complete lack of empathy, and the second being that (Y/N) was now completely free to  _lie_ in regards to all details surrounding the situation. It had occurred to her that taking responsibility for this kind of thing was probably a bad choice on her part, however, she was not about to give credit to the man/bird/thing that  _left her with a complete stranger behind the Target after dark._

Turning her gaze back towards the retired-corpse with renewed ire, (Y/N) rummaged through her pockets for a lighter before dramatically waving it about the air like some kind of magic wand, letting the flame guide his attention away from the childish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That's easy. _Fire._ " 

The sheer amount of confidence in her voice was enough to impress the both of them, the scarred imprint of an eyebrow arching back in surprise as the stranger tilted his head. "You're kidding, right?"

"You ever watched the _Jungle Book_?" (Y/N) remarked casually, earning a low chuckle. 

"Which version? _1967_ or _2016_?"

The girl snorted so suddenly she nearly dropped the lighter. "Okay, first of all I  _hate_  that you have the dates memorized. Second of all, its the same exact plot," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. Something in the man's expression seemed to change slightly, his gaze lighting up with renewed enthusiasm as he shook his head dismissively.

"Uh _, no,_ there is a WORLD of difference between the two movies, but continue," he shrugged, rolling his eyes in a childish gesture. "What does this have to do with _Jungle Book_?"

(Y/N) nearly smacked him upside the head. "The fire, idiot! All the animals are scared of it, remember? Even Share-Khan, that freaky cat-looking th-"

"It's  _Shere-Khan_ , sweetheart," he corrected swiftly, only to flinch as the lighter was flung at his head, bouncing harmlessly off his nose. 

_"You get the point!"_

Reaching down to retrieve the flimsy thing, the man in red let out a raspy sigh, studying the cheap plastic with a thoughtful glance. "So, you're telling me that a swarm of _small, red, flesh-eating_   _beasts_  were scared away by a scrawny kid wielding a lighter, is that it?" 

Eyes narrowing, (Y/N) scoffed at the description. "I guess you could put it that way, yeah." Taking a deep breath, he fell silent, a sliver of recognition haunting his features as he turned to meet her gaze. For a moment, she feared he had somehow caught on to her little charade, (e/c) orbs flickering unsteadily as he opened his mouth to speak. 

"Kid, _The Croods_  would've made a WAY BETTER REFERENCE!" he exclaimed, practically tossing the lighter to the side as he waved his hands dramatically. (Y/N) wanted to  s c r e a m. 

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHICH MOVIE I REFERENCED!" she shot back, mirroring the gesture with a rivaling tone of voice.

"BUT THE SCENE WITH THE BIRDS MAKES WAY MORE SENSE!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the parking lot. At this point, they'd completely lost it. "HAVE YOU EVEN  _SEEN_   _THE CROODS?_ IT IS A SHOT BY SHOT REMAKE OF WHAT YOU'RE DESCRIBING HERE!"

(Y/N) had never seen the movie, unfortunately, nor did she understand why it had become  _absolutely crucial to their discussion_  in the span of thirteen seconds. Fortunately, their conversation was interrupted before it could devolve any further. Just as (Y/N) was about to speak, a familiar hand found its way onto her shoulder, two, hollow orbs staring down the stranger with a mixture of caution and intrigue.

**"I apologize for the sudden absence, something came up,"** he hummed softly, narrowing his gaze. **"Though, I thought I might let you both know, I could hear you from the other side of town."**

Face reddening, (Y/N) did her best to hide the embarrassment clouding her expression, helplessly glancing towards the other in silence. Meeting her gaze, the man in red only shook his head, offering a low chuckle in response. "What can I say? I'm what people call an  _enthusiast,"_  he mused, vaguely gesturing with his hands. The smile on his face remained the same, however, something about his voice had changed; any friendliness he'd shown towards the girl had been replaced by a thin layer of reserve, his eyes now resting firmly on the Owl Man. 

**"I know _exactly_  who you are, Wade Wilson,"** Barnaby replied coolly. 

"Sorry, but that name's reserved for friends, a couple enemies... I wouldn't want you to wear it out," replied Wade, gaze hardening as his smile widened to an unnatural degree, showing the cracks of his teeth. 

_"Call me Deadpool."_


	8. Chapter VIII: Horrible. You're All Horrible.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnaby was intelligent, yes, but he had the social skills of an alcoholic earthworm.
> 
>  She wasn't sure if he was aware of the effect he had on people, however, it was becoming increasingly clear from the looks of things that he had the potential to get them all shot. 
> 
> (In which the reader gets pissed off in an incredibly short span of time. This is the shortest chapter in the entire series)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This chapter is pretty short, but I've got something planned for the future I think you'll enjoy. Thanks for your patience!

_"Call me Deadpool."_

As if on cue, the streetlamps illuminating the block seemed to dim, a chilling breeze ruffling the fabric of her coat as (Y/N) stared blankly at the scene unfolding before her. Neither Wade nor the Owl Man made any attempt to move, the two now engaged in a staring contest as a wave of silence settled over the vacant lot.

_Well, this was uncomfortable._

It had occurred to her, at one point or another, that Wade was one of the first people to actually  _interact_  with the Owl Man, at least from what she'd witnessed so far. Barnaby was practically invisible to the rest of the world, minus a few unfortunate souls such as herself. That being said, Wade had just survived a carnivorous rabbit attack, so any ignorance regarding 'their world' had been ripped to pieces. _Literally._

Shoving her hands into her pockets, (Y/N) resolved to ignore the cold as it nipped angrily at her skin, (e/c) orbs tracing over the dimly lit faces of both men. From the way Deadpool was standing, it was easily inferred the man was armed, one hand positioned just above the belt in anticipation for something... unfortunate. In his defense, Barnaby's presence wasn't exactly a  _good_  thing, however, filling him with lead wouldn't be doing anyone a favor. Gunfire attracted trouble, after all, and  _trouble_ wasn't easy to kill. Not with bullets, at least. 

(Y/N) wasn't the only one to notice the weapon. Observing his posture, the Owl Man gave a vague impression of a smile, judgment radiating from his gaze as he gestured towards the gun, breaking the silence. **"You tried firing on those creatures earlier, didn't you?"** The question seemed to catch the man off guard, scarred flesh twisting into a frown as Wade scrutinized his expression, wary. 

"What's it to you, jackass?" he hummed dangerously, cocking his head to the side. 

Ignoring the expletive, he shook his head in dismay. "Ah, so that's why they attacked you. You startled them," he explained, a certain bluntness in his tone that made it difficult not to smack the man. Barnaby was intelligent, yes, but he had the social skills of an alcoholic earthworm. There were days even  _she_  couldn't handle his strangeness, despite the fact she practically shared an apartment with paranormal stick men and a  _sentient chandelier. (More on that later)._ She wasn't sure if he was aware of the effect he had on people, however, it was becoming increasingly clear from the looks of things that he had the potential to get them all shot. 

_Lovely._

Before either fiend or freak could continue further, (Y/N) found herself stepping between them, raising her arms in a vague gesture of surrender as exhausted (e/c) orbs searched Wade's expression for any hint of reason. "Look, Wade, Deadpool, whoever you are," she sighed, pursing her lips in dismay at the sheer confusion on his face as if he had already forgotten she was here. "I know it's difficult, but if you manage to ignore him, I promise you, life will become  _so much easier._ " 

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes as Wade studied her for a moment, shifting his hand away from the gun. "You sound like you know what you're talking about," he snickered, raising a brow. "I'm guessing he's with you, then?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Exhaling sharply through her nose, (Y/N) could feel Barnaby's stare from behind her, smiling faintly at his confusion. "He's not a threat if that's what you're wondering." 

The remark earned a dry laugh. "Kid, if I had a dime for every time I heard  _that one_ , we'd be having this conversation on a yacht."

Biting her cheek, her smile quickly faded. _Christ, this man was difficult. "_ In case you need a reminder, you are  _armed_ ,  _unrestrained,_ and apparently  _immortal,"_ she emphasized, gesturing towards the man with folded hands. "The worst he can possibly do is follow you home."

**"Well, that's not necessarily tr-"**

"Shut up, bird boy!"

Running an impatient hand through (h/c) hair, (Y/N) felt her patience wither away as both men went quiet, regarding her with a shared look of surprise. "Look, I've had a  _long fucking day._ I fought a demon, hit Spider-Man with my car, and  _now_  I'm standing in the middle of a Target parking lot arguing with a zombie in spandex because  _someone_  decided to magically appear so he could run his mouth. It's cold, I'm exhausted, and frankly, I'm about ready to strangle both of you, so I'm going home. _Got it_?" 

Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heels, marching off in the direction she  _presumed_  to be the way home. She hoped the Owl Man would get the hint and teleport them back to the flat, however, she wasn't counting on it. Glaring pointedly at the ground, she did her best to ignore the cold as a string of profanity escaped her lips, fatigue pulling stubbornly at her eyelids. Stupid Barnaby. Stupid Deadpool. Stupid _Target._

All she wanted was five minutes of peace, alone in her apartment. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was. Before she could even make it to the edge of the lot, a blur of feathers swarmed her vision, the familiar sensation of falling sending her into a panicked frenzy before something grabbed hold of her foot and the world exploded into static.


End file.
